Each room and hall was more beautiful than the last. Some were enclosed while others were open to one of the inner courtyards, the open passages lined with more columns and arches. Many columns had vines woven around them, colorful blooms filling the entire palace with their scent as the breeze caught it. Each inner courtyard he spotted boasted a fountain or pool of its own. Mere afterthoughts. This water was simply there for aesthetic reasons, nothing more. Everywhere Nino walked he could hear the fall of water, and the abundance of it made him ill.
He was finally brought down a long passageway. Four maidservants in red robes bowed low to him as he arrived. Rumiko had likely sent word ahead of their caravan so that rooms would already be prepared for him. It seemed that all the servants of the palace wore red, the same as Sho. A reminder of the red rising sun. Each, however, wore a black ribbon around their arms. Sho hadn’t had one of those.
It was doubtful that the rooms he’d inherited were the fanciest in the palace, but the luxury within still left him unable to find words. It was a series of three connected rooms. The first was a sitting room of simple tatami mats adorned with a low table, red cushions, and a taller side table that might hold refreshments. There were walls on three sides, the fourth open to the air like many of the other passageways he’d come through. Thin silk curtains might be pulled closed for privacy, but otherwise there was a small courtyard all his own with a small round pool in the center. He was almost grateful for the lack of a fountain. He wasn’t sure he could bear the constant noise, the constant reminder.
The second room was a private bedchamber, walled on all sides. It was simply but elegantly appointed with a large bed, side tables, and a chest of drawers for whatever clothing he might be issued. The final room was a private washroom dominated by a large tub for bathing with its own faucet. There was also a faucet attached to the tiled wall along with a wash bucket and wooden stool. A screen decorated with pelicans hid a chamber pot behind it.
The three rooms put together were larger than most of the homes he’d stayed in the last several days. And those homes had been considerably larger than the caravan tents. What was he to do with all this empty space? Well, he supposed that depended on whatever magical abilities he possessed. If he had none, Nino doubted he’d be staying in these rooms much longer.
Rumiko departed, explaining that she would go straight to the king to notify him of their arrival. “It will be up to Father if he wishes to address the servant matter right away,” Rumiko explained, irritated at having to say so at all. Whether Sho lived or died was of no concern to her.
With his aunt gone, the very timid maidservants quietly entered the sitting room, kneeling before him and pressing their foreheads to the floor. Was this the life his mother had led before leaving Amaterasu? He simply couldn’t imagine a woman of Ninomiya Kazuko’s toughness and independence bowing so meekly to anyone.
One of the maidservants, likely the senior among them, was the only one to speak. “If your chambers are not to your liking, Your Highness, we most humbly apologize. You need only tell us how we might please you.”
He didn’t particularly like her phrasing, thinking of his mother again. Had it been this way with Prince Yukio? Had she sought to please him? Had she mistaken that for genuine affection?
“When no one else is in this room, I will not allow you to kneel to me.”
This registered as pure shock on the senior maidservant’s face as she looked up at him. “Your Highness?”
“Do what is considered proper when I have guests,” he continued. “But otherwise, you will not kneel to me again. Is that understood?”
She nodded, slowly rising to her feet. The other three did the same, though none of them would meet his eyes. Their behavior worried him. They didn’t know him. They knew only that he was royal and for that, they were horribly afraid of him. Nino didn’t want to know how other members of his new family treated their servants.
“The black ribbon, around your arms,” he inquired. “What does it symbolize?” The red he could understand…but the black…
“We are in mourning here,” the maidservant explained. “For Prince Yukio, may the Gods favor him.”
“May the Gods favor him,” the other three chimed in an instant later.
He couldn’t quite read their faces. He couldn’t tell if they genuinely mourned the loss of his father or not. In time, he’d have to figure it out. He’d need allies here, as many as he could find, if he was going to survive.
“It’s been a long journey,” he said. “I wish to be left alone to rest.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
The four left in a flurry of red, closing the door softly behind them. Nino removed the boots his aunt had given him, flinging them in a corner of his new sitting room. He walked out into the courtyard, crouching down beside the small pool of water. Looking up, the courtyard was private, solid walls closing him in. He set his hand in the water, finding it cool despite the sun bearing down on the capital. He flicked droplets away, annoyed at the waste, as he got to his feet.
He walked the perimeter of the pool, examining the high walls, nervousness growing. He had privacy, but he would not be able to escape. There were no handholds in the brick, and he’d never be able to scale three stories with nothing to hold on to. He thought he saw a flash of color from the corner of his eye, a sudden movement. He turned, looking up to the wall behind him.
Nobody there, but he could have sworn…
Well, that didn’t matter. But he’d learned something. It wasn’t as private here as he thought. Someone might sit on the palace roof and look down. He headed back inside, drawing the silk curtains with a huff. There was much he’d need to learn.
-
It was an entire day before anyone but the maidservants came to his room. He’d been served a large dinner the night before, gently informing the lead maid, Mirei, to bring him only a fraction as much food in the future. She had been confused once again-what kind of man would eat so little when the palace offered him so much?
They’d come again in the morning to empty his chamber pot, change the soft bedsheets, and bring in clothing. He’d had to stop Mirei just before she added rose-scented oils to his bathwater. He’d look the part of a prince, but he’d rather smell clean than aristocratic.
It was an older gentleman who came to his chambers that afternoon just after his midday meal. Nino was almost grateful for the intrusion. There’d been Kingsguard posted at his door overnight, and there’d been nothing in the room to do but read through the few books of flowery poetry that had been left there.
The man was not in the red robes of servants, but his clothes weren’t as fine as the new ones Nino had been brought. The black ribbon for Yukio was tied around his arm, however, the same as the servants. The same as the one tied around Nino’s own sleeve now, hoping to fit in.
The man was middle-aged, balding, clever-eyed. “My name is Takahashi, Your Highness,” the man said. “I am an advisor to King Kotaro. You’ve been summoned.”
He rose to his feet, hoping he didn’t look frightened or rushed. He was royal now, so he supposed he ought to act a bit more spoiled than he was used to. “Very well. I will come with you.”
Takahashi led him from his chambers and back through the maze of passageways that made up the royal palace. Yesterday he’d been too awestruck by all the water, all the ivy and vines, to make much sense of where he seemed to have been placed. There were more people in the passages this afternoon. Those in red moved quietly, discreetly. Those in clothes like Takahashi’s moved about comfortably.
It seemed like Nino’s chambers were in one wing of the palace, perhaps a more residential area. The longer they walked along, the more people dressed like Takahashi appeared. Advisors and high-ranking staff. Bureaucrats rather than full-time palace residents. All wore the black ribbons of mourning. How many were sincere? How many were worn for appearance’s sake?
Rumiko was waiting outside of the arched double doors Takahashi led him to. She seemed to approve of Nino’s new clothes as well as the shave he’d given himself that morning, not that he’d sprouted many new hairs in the last day or two. He knew he looked royal now. He knew he looked as though he belonged, rose-scented baths aside.
Rumiko stood by his side, grinning at him. He offered her his arm, trying not to shake when she took it, holding him tightly. Nino felt as though he was Rumiko’s most prized possession. He wondered what the king might think of that.
Takahashi nodded for the Kingsguard posted at the doors to open them. Nino felt Rumiko’s breath against his ear.
“Stand tall. Be strong, no matter how he makes you feel.”
The king?
He had no chance to ask his question as the doors swung open to reveal the royal audience chamber. It was a long room with soaring, vaulted ceilings. Marble arches and columns lined the solid walls, and a deep red rug split the room up the middle as it led to a raised dais with a white marble throne.
He swallowed nervously as he entered, Rumiko encouraging him to walk proudly up the rug rather than on the black and white checkerboard-patterned tile. The chamber might hold hundreds, but for now there were only a handful of people inside. Nino tried not to react when he saw the two men from the Kingsguard standing just before the two steps up to the dais, Sakurai Sho shoved to his knees before them.
The throne was occupied by a rather frail old man, his skin wrinkled and sallow, his body overburdened with heavy-looking red robes covered in embroidered golden suns. His face was stern but calm, watching carefully as Nino entered. Thinking it unwise to stare the leader of the Sun Kingdom right in the face, he decided to focus his attention instead to the tall man in the rather simple green tunic and dark trousers standing just behind the throne to the right.
This was a mistake.
Their eyes met, and Nino nearly tripped over his own feet when a sudden, cool wave seemed to wash over him, leaving him shivering. He blinked, trying to regain his footing, Rumiko’s grip on him tightening as she urged him forward.
The look on the man’s face softened. He was handsome, with long limbs and a slim build. Everything about him was as human as could be. And yet Nino couldn’t look away from his eyes. They were brown, not a far cry from the color of Nino’s own eyes, but there was something in them that hooked on to him, tight and unyielding, a stronger pull than even Rumiko’s grip. What was this feeling? Nino didn’t know it. Nino had never felt it before. Not in his happiest or lowest moments.
Somehow he continued putting one foot in front of the other, but it felt like the rest of him had gone numb. He was upright, he was in motion, and yet he felt paralyzed at the same time. There was a word for what he saw in the strange man’s eyes. One simple, undeniable word.
Power.
The man broke eye contact first, looking down with a soft smile, his dark brown hair falling across his face to obscure his eyes. He clearly found something funny.
Be strong, Rumiko had said. No matter how he makes you feel.
She hadn’t been speaking about King Kotaro, had she?
Released from the sharp pull of the man in green, Nino realized that he was shivering. Positively shaking with cold, his jaw trembling even though there was only the lightest breeze inside the warm audience chamber. What the hell had just happened?
“Kneel and pay your respects to Father,” Rumiko whispered as they moved ahead of the soldiers, ahead of the kneeling and imprisoned Sakurai Sho.
Nino, still shaking, let his arm fall back to his side, kneeling on the first stair before the throne. “Your Majesty,” he managed to say. In the presence of the king and the strange man beside him, Nino could barely move. He stared at the rug beneath him, trying to focus on the fact that Sho was still alive, willing himself to be still.
“You are Kazunari,” the king said, his voice rasping with his advanced age. The now-deceased Yukio had been in his early sixties. The king himself was pushing ninety years.
“I am, Your Majesty,” he replied, not raising his head.
“Our meeting comes at a momentous time. It was my son’s decision, may the Gods favor him, to keep you from me.” The king cleared his throat, an ugly, sickening sound. “Let me look upon you and know that you are my blood.”
Taking a breath, Nino looked up and into the king’s aged face. He felt a shiver go down his spine. If he moved his eyes just to the right, he’d be looking at the man in green again. He didn’t want to. He didn’t know how he’d react. Instead he met the eyes of his grandfather for the first time.
What Matsumoto Kotaro saw didn’t seem to please him much.
“You are small,” the king scoffed, raising his eyebrows. “Bones.”
“He was raised among poor desert drifters,” Rumiko piped up, her voice tinged with pity. Nino tried not to react. “They hunch over in their ragged tents and subsist on nuts and berries. It is no wonder he looks the way he does, Father.”
Nino had never considered himself to be a tall man, but he had never been around many people who were. He still stood a full head taller than his mother and a few inches taller than Seitaro, but after days in the company of the Kingsguard, he knew that he was smaller than most men of the capital. Desert peoples ate little, traveled continuously. It was not a life that made you fat, nor was it a life that left you tall. He’d never felt shame about it before, and he wasn’t about to start now. But being insufficient in the eyes of the king was not going to start him off on the right foot politically.
“I am who I am, Your Majesty,” he said quietly.
“You are mine, though,” Kotaro rasped. “I see it in your eyes. You look as I did at your age…well, if I had been an emaciated desert rat.”
He swallowed, smiling bitterly as his stomach turned. His grandfather was as blunt and unkind as his horrible daughter. “Perhaps now that I am finally where I belong I’ll fatten up in a manner that pleases you, Your Majesty.”
His gamble paid off, the old man laughing in reply. Rumiko laughed as well, at least until the king gave her an exasperated look when her chuckles went on longer than his.
“You have a Matsumoto tongue as well, Kazunari,” Kotaro said. “But the only thing that truly matters is what none of us can see right now. Your blood.”
Nino nodded in understanding.
“Traditionally, those of our bloodline receive the markings when they come of age…at twenty. You are the same age as Jun?”
“A few months older,” Rumiko said. “Thirty-four years now.”
Nino’s birthday had come and gone yesterday, and he hadn’t even realized it.
“I don’t need you to be his mouth when yours is already overused,” Kotaro snapped, and for the first time, Nino saw Rumiko chastened, hesitant. She merely smiled, taking a step back. Father and daughter did not see eye to eye in all things. Nino remembered the bangle on Rumiko’s leg, suppressing her powers.
“My dear aunt is correct,” Nino said. “I have reached thirty-four years.”
“Our court remains in mourning for the next three months,” Kotaro said, eyeing Nino warily. “You will be marked without any ceremony. I’d rather know your blood now than when mourning is lifted. I’m sure your father would have wished for it, as well. For your birthright to be recognized sooner rather than later.”
“It would be an honor, Your Majesty,” he replied quietly, trying to keep calm even as he remembered how the tattoos had looked on Rumiko’s arm. Soon a matching set would be on his.
“One week from today so you might settle in,” the king decided, cracking a brown-toothed smile. “Fatten up. You may stand.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I will be ready,” he replied, finally getting back to his feet. Could the old man sense his fear?
“Then there is the other matter, I’ve been told,” the king continued. “My daughter claims that you have a request regarding the traitor behind you.”
Nino couldn’t help turning, seeing that Sho had not moved a muscle since Nino had entered the audience chamber. His red robes were gone, and he’d been dressed in a simple tan tunic and bottoms. He hadn’t been given any shoes, and his dirty feet marred the otherwise pristine tile beneath him.
His face lifted just a little, and Nino held in a gasp at the sight of his sunburnt face, the red interrupted here and there by bruises and a black eye that had left him swollen and in obvious agony. Who knew what had been done to the rest of him that Nino couldn’t see?
Nino turned back to the king and inclined his head in acknowledgment. There was a slight buzzing in his ears, the hair on the back of his neck rising when his eyes quickly moved past the mysterious man in green. It wasn’t as strong as it had first been, but it was still there. That depth of feeling, that chill.
“Yes, Your Majesty, if you’ll be so kind as to allow it.”
“We’ll see what I allow, my blood,” the old man said in a sly tone, moving a little in his chair, his gnarled old hands gripping the arms of it.
“Sakurai Sho was a loyal, trusted servant of my father,” he said before quickly adding, “may the Gods favor him.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw the man in green smirk. He ignored it, pushing forward. He’d barely slept the night before, trying to think of what he might say if called upon to argue for Sho’s life. He still wasn’t certain he’d be successful. And having Sho here, Sho covered in bruises, made him all the more unsure. What if he failed? Would he have to watch Sho die?
“I understand fully that coming to find me meant that he abandoned his post here at the palace, a treasonous offense, especially considering the dishonor the Sakurai family showed to ours so many years ago. However, he was acting at the behest of my dear departed father, who wished only to see me. To meet the son he’d never known. Perhaps if circumstances had been different, Prince Yukio would have been able to stand here at my side so that three generations of this honorable bloodline might be united in one room…”
The king’s expression was unreadable, but he said nothing.
“Unfortunately that is not the case, and it pains me that I will never get to know the man who fathered me,” Nino said softly, hoping he sounded genuine. “Prince Yukio will never get to witness the joy I feel standing here at the center of this family’s power. He will never get to know what it feels for me to meet the family hidden from me for so many years. The grandfather who watches over our kingdom. The dear aunt who has studied our long and noble heritage…”
He could feel the man in green watching him now, and he clasped his hands behind his back to keep them from shaking. Who was he? Was he seeing right through Nino’s lies?
“My father valued Sakurai Sho’s counsel. My father trusted Sakurai Sho. Since I can never know my father, would it not benefit me to learn of his strengths and his character from one who knew him well? I ask, Your Majesty, for Sakurai Sho to serve me. To guide me here in Amaterasu. I know very little of your ways and customs here at court, Grandfather, and…”
“That will be enough.”
Nino stopped talking, caught off guard. He watched a bitter smile cross the old man’s face.
“You are Yukio’s son, though you never met,” the king said. “The way you’ve just spoken makes it all too obvious.”
He looked down at the rug, trying not to tremble.
“Yukio spoke this way years ago trying to ensure that this traitor’s father continued to draw breath. He’s still alive, isn’t he, traitor?”
Sho’s voice was weak, shaky. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Weakness runs in that bloodline,” Kotaro chided. “Traitor father, traitor son.”
“Your Majesty,” Nino mumbled despite himself, “if Sakurai Sho chose not to follow my father’s orders, would that not also have been treasonous behavior?”
“You spoke truth when you said you know little of our ways and customs here!” the king snapped, raising his voice loud enough to ring in Nino’s ears. As weak as the old man was, he quaked with sudden rage.
Nino knelt again, inclining his head. “I apologize, Grandfather…”
“My son stuck his wandering cock into a loose little serving girl’s cunt thirty-four years ago, and this is what it brought me! A weakling and a fool!”
The old man’s rage shook Nino to the core, and he lowered his head even further. Breathe, he told himself. Breathe.
“Father,” Rumiko interrupted, walking up to the throne and boldly stroking the old man’s arm. “The deserts have left the poor boy weak-willed, but let’s not dismiss him outright. His judgment may be lacking, but his blood may yet be strong. Strong as mine or perhaps even yours.”
He wasn’t sure if he appreciated Rumiko’s defense of him or not at this point. Because it was all too clear that Nino had lost. His argument in favor of saving Sho’s life wasn’t going to work. He looked over, aching at the sight of Sho’s battered face.
Nino jolted when the double doors at the rear of the chamber suddenly opened. He stayed down on his knees, looking back as a man came strutting in as though nothing in the world bothered him.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and of an age with Nino. He carried himself proudly, wearing a purple tunic and dark fitted trousers, his simple pair of wooden sandals scuffing along the floor. His black hair was slicked back away from his face, and he was munching on an apple as he came strolling up the middle of the chamber, an almost mischievous look in his dark eyes.
The king’s scowl deepened. “You’re late. I summoned you an hour ago, you insolent whelp.”
The man grinned, showing off a large mouth of gleaming white teeth. He took another leisurely bite of his apple, juice dribbling down his chin until he wiped at it with the back of his hand.
“Grandfather,” the man said in a droll tone. “I was having lunch.”
Nino’s eyes widened. This man…he was...
“Auntie,” Prince Jun continued, offering a rather impish salute in Rumiko’s direction. “Always good to see you out of your cage.”
The air in the room had suddenly shifted. The crude anger the king had been aiming in Nino’s direction had quickly changed target. Rumiko looked almost murderous, standing beside her father, the strange man in green on the other side still making Nino uncomfortable.
Matsumoto Jun, the Sun Kingdom’s heir presumptive, took in the sight of the two members of the Kingsguard, the injured Sakurai Sho at their feet. Nodding indifferently, he finally turned his gaze in Nino’s direction, his brown eyes almost glittering with contempt.
“So the rumors were true,” Prince Jun said before looking away and back to the king, offering a rather outrageous attempt at a bow. “Apologies for my tardiness. What’d I miss?”
Nino didn’t have the courage yet to get to his feet, and Matsumoto Jun…his half-brother stood at his side. There was little they shared in common physically. Where Nino was slim, Jun was firm and muscled. He was similar in size to the members of the Kingsguard, although his waist was narrower and there was none of their discipline.
“This is your elder brother Kazunari,” the king said, eyebrow raised in challenge.
Jun just laughed, taking another bite of his apple. “My replacement, Grandfather? This scrawny fellow? Don’t joke, now.”
“Nobody’s laughing, Jun,” Kotaro said, leaning forward in his seat. “The only joke in the room at present is you.”
Any man might have been offended. Any man might have been angered. But instead Nino watched the smile on Prince Jun’s face widen. The prince who couldn’t wield the power of the bloodline smiling at the insult from the man he was set to replace. Nino hadn’t known what to really think of Prince Jun when Rumiko had spoken of him, but he certainly hadn’t expected…this.
“Welcome to the family, Kazunari,” Jun said, patting him on the head like a dog. “It’s a most loving one as you can see.”
“As you’ve managed to pull yourself away from your whoring long enough to show your face in my chamber,” Kotaro continued, “perhaps you might offer an opinion on a certain matter.”
Jun chuckled. “Since when has my opinion ever been valued around here?”
Kotaro pointed to Sakurai Sho. “Your father’s pet.”
Jun set a hand on his hip, the black mourning ribbon tied sloppily around his arm jostling lightly. “What about him?”
Nino tried to focus on breathing, hearing the indifference in Jun’s voice. How much weight did the heir to the throne’s opinion have over Sakurai Sho’s fate? He’d only been in the room a minute, maybe more, but already Nino could sense the animosity between grandfather and grandson, between king and likely successor. Would King Kotaro accept Jun’s counsel or do the opposite to spite him?
“Kazunari argues that it was only following your father’s orders, leaving the palace to track him down on Yukio’s behalf.”
Jun looked over at Sho, chuckling gently. “He’s always been obedient.”
Nino couldn’t help but notice that unlike the king and Rumiko, Matsumoto Jun at least acknowledged Sho’s humanity.
“Kazunari feels this is good enough reason to keep it alive,” the king said. He stared Jun down. “Your father, may the Gods favor him, kept Kazunari’s existence secret all these years, and yet he finally took the risk of contacting him. I wonder why he made such a decision.”
At this Nino could finally see the slightest crack in Jun’s disaffected mask. But he hid it very well. Jealousy. Anger.
Fear.
“Yes,” Jun said calmly. “I wonder.”
“You understand the gravity of the crime that’s been committed here,” the king said. “Unless I’ve overestimated your intelligence once again.”
Jun didn’t take the bait, instead walking over to Sho. He crouched down, taking hold of Sho by the hair and pulling his head up to look him in the face. Nino didn’t miss the look of disgust that briefly flashed across Jun’s face when Sho moaned gently in pain.
“Ouch,” Jun said with a wince, shaking his head.
Nino wanted to slug him, this brother he didn’t know. Didn’t anyone in this room have a conscience? A soul?
Jun loosened his grip, hand sliding down from Sho’s scalp to cup his bruised face. “When’s the last time he’s been fed, hmm?”
“Does it matter?” Rumiko scoffed.
Jun clucked his tongue in annoyance, tapping Sho’s cheek with his fingers. “Open.” Nino watched Sho obediently open his mouth as Prince Jun set his half-eaten apple between his lips. “Bite.”
Sho obeyed, entire body trembling as he bit into the Prince’s apple. Nino didn’t know what the hell to think. The king watched, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. Rumiko looked impatient. Jun’s voice was insistent but quiet. “Bite,” he ordered. “Chew. Swallow. Bite again.”
“If you’re done toying with it, would you like to rejoin the conversation?” Rumiko grumbled.
Jun cruelly left the apple in Sho’s mouth, juice sliding messily down Sho’s chin as the prince got back to his feet. Sho could only hold it there between his teeth or risk letting the remainder of the Prince’s lunch fall and hit the floor.
“My father sent Sho to find Kazunari without informing you, Grandfather. Such an act is treasonous,” Jun decided.
Nino finally got to his feet, nearly sick to death of these people, this horrible family. “Wait a moment…”
Jun looked down at him, amused. “However, there’s something we all ought to consider.”
“And what is that, Jun?” Kotaro asked. “Do enlighten us.”
Nino watched as Jun slowly tugged at the black ribbon tied around his sleeve. Holding it in his fist, Jun walked up the two steps to the throne, standing before their grandfather and letting the ribbon dance back and forth.
“Sho was merely following the orders of his master. A master who we will be mourning for the next three months, as is proper. As is our family’s custom.” Jun inclined his head. “May the Gods favor him.”
Kotaro waved his hand impatiently for Jun to continue.
“I propose a stay of execution,” Jun said, settling his ribbon in the pocket of his trousers. “At least until the mourning period is complete. After all, he is a most loyal servant.”
Nino watched Jun walk over, holding out his hand beneath Sho’s chin. Sho opened his mouth just a bit wider, letting the apple fall into Jun’s palm. Jun turned back to the king with a smile.
“Are we really killing servants for obedience now, Grandfather?”
“And if it continues its treasonous ways?” Rumiko fumed. “Once a traitor to the crown, always a traitor.”
Jun smirked. “I doubt he’d be that foolish. Anyhow, a messy execution during a period of mourning is disrespectful to the gods.” Nino watched Jun’s eyes move to the man in green. “Isn’t that right, Masaki?”
Nino looked up, finally seeing the man in green for what he truly was. The chill Nino had felt even in the heat. The way he stood behind the king’s throne, silent, a mere observer. The look in his eyes that Nino realized now wasn’t human.
The man in green, the man Prince Jun had just called “Masaki,” was not a man at all, was he?
He was one of the sons of the God of the Waters. Everything was true. Everything.
Masaki didn’t speak, only bowing his head to the king’s heir in acknowledgment.
Nino couldn’t look away, barely understanding what happened next. There was a ringing in his ears. He saw the man in green turn to look at him, a not-quite smile quirking the man’s lips. Friend? Foe? Nino couldn’t tell. But they were all in the presence of a god. The man standing behind the throne was a god walking amongst them.
A god under the king’s control.
The king spoke, setting a date for Sho’s execution - as Jun had suggested, he would be put to death a week after the palace emerged from mourning. Three months. Nino at least had three months to find another way to save him. Rumiko wished for Sho to be thrown in the palace dungeons. The king disagreed.
“It belongs to Kazunari now. Let it at least be useful to my ignorant grandson for the remainder of its days.”
At that pronouncement, the Kingsguard dragged Sho away. Nino bowed low to his grandfather in thanks and was dismissed.
He followed a laughing Matsumoto Jun from the audience chamber, watching him take another bite of his apple as he lazily strolled away from the throne. Nino didn’t dare look back, feeling the eyes of the god watching him as he left.
-
Takahashi offered to give Nino a grand tour of the palace grounds, but he declined, postponing it until the following day. Much had happened, though he could show none of that weakness to Takahashi.
Instead he made it back to his rooms, trying to gather his wits. Matsumoto Kotaro. Matsumoto Jun. And Masaki, son of the God of the Waters.
Too much. It was all too much.
A dinner tray was brought to him when the sun set, and Mirei had followed his orders exactly. But even the small meal turned his stomach, and he picked at it, feeling completely out of his element.
He replayed the scene in the audience chamber again and again. How the king had treated him. How Matsumoto Jun had treated him. In a week, he’d be tattooed and his training in magic would begin. He would learn if he had the power to control the gods.
He thought of how Masaki had stood there, a silent observer of the court squabbles over a traitorous servant. Nino had trembled in his presence, in the presence of a god. It seemed impossible that their positions might be reversed, that Nino might come to control someone who seemed so powerful even without uttering a word.
He slept poorly, consumed with nightmares that slipped away as soon as he managed to wake. He sat on a cushion in his sitting room as the sun rose, feeling empty as the maids bustled around his chamber with their quiet efficiency.
Takahashi returned for him mid-morning, and Nino did his best to seem attentive as the man led him slowly around the palace. He nodded with little enthusiasm as he was shown grand banquet rooms, a library full to bursting with scrolls and other priceless literary items, offices for those staffing the royal treasury. Rooms that existed only to house paintings and sculptures. A greenhouse overseen by Princess Mariya.
The royal advisor didn’t bother showing him the upper floors. Those were the servants’ quarters, and Nino was told that there wasn’t much to see. He was also informed that there were extensive bathing facilities underground, accessible from the royal wing where Nino was staying, but that Prince Jun and “some friends” were currently utilizing them and did not wish to be disturbed. Nino had definitely seen the look of disapproval in Takahashi’s face when he’d spoken of Jun’s “friends.” Perhaps he was pleased that a new potential heir had arrived…
The tour concluded on one of the balconies overlooking the palace gardens, Nino leaning against the railing, looking at the soaring walls in the distance. Feeling isolated. And trapped. “Did you know my father, Takahashi?”
The man stood beside him, nodding. “Of course, Your Highness. May the Gods favor him.”
The expected and diplomatic response. He know that he couldn’t trust the man, not yet anyway. “I’m a stranger here,” Nino said cautiously. “I was never able to meet him. Is there anything you think I should know about him?”
“What is it that you wish to know?”
He turned his head, seeing mere curiosity on the advisor’s face.
“Do I resemble him?” Nino asked.
Takahashi was quiet for a moment as a member of the Kingsguard continued on a patrol behind them. When the soldier was out of earshot, Takahashi’s reply was rather quiet.
“Yes, Your Highness. You do resemble him.”
It was Mirei who found him, inclining her head as she approached in a flurry of red a few moments later. “Your Highness,” Mirei said, “I am sorry to interrupt.”
“What is it?”
“You have a visitor. In your chambers.”
His stomach knotted. Was it Rumiko? Was it Jun? Was it another palace player who had yet to meet him?
“Very well,” he said agreeably before clapping Takahashi on the shoulder. “I thank you for your most informative tour.”
He followed Mirei down a staircase, through several passageways that gradually became more familiar as the path to his own chambers. Like they had upon his arrival, his maidservants were all huddled outside his door, dropping low at his approach since they were still outside his rooms.
“Who is it?” he finally asked when Mirei paused before his door. He thought he’d be largely left alone until he was tattooed.
He realized that Mirei and the other girls were struggling to keep from crying. “They just left him there with no instructions…I wasn’t sure what to do, Your Highness,” Mirei explained.
Nino opened the door nervously before crying out in shock. He quickly urged the four women inside, shutting the door. “Help me move him into the other room…into the bed…”
Sakurai Sho lay in a heap on the floor of Nino’s sitting room, the tatami mats near him smeared with his blood. Nino rushed over, gently turning Sho over onto his back. A soft moan let Nino know that Sho was still alive, but he was in bad shape. He didn’t want to know what had happened between his audience with the king yesterday and his arrival today.
Nino got his arms under Sho’s while the women helped to lift him. Slowly they brought him into Nino’s bedchamber, settling him carefully onto the sheets. He was still in the drab clothing from the day before, and Nino rested a hand on his head.
“Sho, can you hear me?”
One of the maids burst into tears in fright. They seemed to know that Sakurai Sho was a servant too, one of their own. What happened to him might happen to her if she ever went astray.
When he finally got another moan from Sho in reply, Nino knew he had to focus. He ordered two of the maids to gather water and cloth. Sho’s wounds and filthy, blistered feet would need to be cleaned first. “I will need several things, and I will need them quickly,” he told Mirei. “Can you write?”
She shook her head. “No, Your Highness. But my memory is good.”
He didn’t know the palace doctors, and he didn’t know if he could trust any of them to provide Sho with adequate care. No, he’d handle this himself. Nino spoke slowly, naming each item he required. A mortar and pestle. Each plant, each herb. Mirei repeated them all, and once he was confident, he sent her and the other maid off to retrieve them.
For once, Nino was grateful for the abundant water in his chambers. Between the three of them who remained in Nino’s chambers, they were able to ease the dirty clothing from Sho’s bruised body, washing the dirt and dried blood from his skin. The white sheets beneath him grew stained, and the maids quickly worked around him once his body was cleaned, changing to fresh ones. While Sho’s body was covered in bruises, he thankfully didn’t seem to have any broken bones.
The king had postponed Sho’s execution. And until that day, it seemed that Sakurai Sho had been left for Nino to deal with.
It was another hour before Mirei returned, arms overburdened with the items Nino had demanded. He didn’t know what she’d had to do or say to get them, but she’d come through and for that, Nino was grateful.
“You are a healer,” the youngest maid, Kanna, mumbled as Nino started to pull items together and grind them. “You are a prince and yet you are a healer.”
He looked up, smiling bitterly. “I’ve been a healer for far longer than I’ve been a prince. I’ll fix him.”
“May the Gods favor you,” one of the other maids mumbled.
He met each of their faces with a seriousness they quickly understood. “You will tell no one that I am skilled in medicine. No one.” He didn’t want to reveal everything about himself just yet. Who knew how his grandfather might react.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Mirei replied, the other girls also murmuring their agreement.
Now that he had what he needed, he set to work, dismissing them. He was pleased when he heard gentle snoring. Sho was as comfortable as he was likely to get. After days sleeping in stables, he deserved a decent rest.
Healing came easier to Nino than so many other things, and he was able to focus better than he had in days. There were a few lacerations that he stitched closed first, rubbing them with a salve that would prevent infection and wrapping each wound with clean cloth. He made his usual cream for sunburn, rubbing it across Sho’s face, neck, and arms that had borne the brunt of the sun’s cruelty. He tended to the blisters on Sho’s feet and finally pressed cold compresses against Sho’s face to start easing the swelling. The water that emerged from the faucet in his washroom was fresh, cold, and clean. He tried not to think about how it had gotten there.
By the time the sun had set, Nino actually found himself hungry. Mirei seemed to anticipate that, bringing him a tray overburdened with rice, grilled meat, and pickled vegetables. She told Nino to rest while she and another maid worked to spoon some warm broth into Sho’s mouth in the other room. Nino doubted Sho had had anything in his belly besides the teasing bites of Prince Jun’s apple since yesterday.
Before he knew it, he was asleep, rising in the morning to discover that he’d slept in a cluster of cushions on his sitting room floor, the silk curtains rusting in the breeze.
Nino moved to the next room, finding Sakurai Sho sitting upright with pillows behind him. At some point during the night Mirei or the other girls had probably come in to help him get more comfortable, letting Nino sleep while they rubbed some of the pastes and salves Nino had made onto him. He grinned when he saw that the well-meaning maids had rubbed the sunburn cream diligently but needlessly onto Sho’s pale feet.
Sho was awake, one eye still swollen shut but the other watching him cautiously.
“Good morning,” Nino said, able to speak to the man for the first time since they’d departed Toyone-mura.
“Good morning,” Sho replied quietly.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”
Sho shook his head slowly, clearly pained. “You did save me, Nino. I ought to be dead right now…I can’t begin to thank you…”
“I couldn’t even win you a reprieve on my own. You have my brother to thank for your remaining days.”
Sho looked away.
Nino approached the bed, sitting at the end by Sho’s feet. “Quite the family I have here.”
“Yes indeed.”
“I don’t even know where to start. I have so many questions.”
“I can imagine,” Sho whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ve been gifted to me,” he said. “I asked for you to be able to serve me as you served my father.”
“It would be my honor.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want another servant, Sho. I want a friend. Will you be my friend?”
Sho’s hands twisted in the sheets, clearly surprised. “Of course.”
Nino got up. “I would see you be well again before I pry answers from you. But I’ll ask you to confirm one thing for me now.”
“Anything,” Sho answered sincerely.
“The man in the audience chamber, the one who stood behind my grandfather’s throne. The one called Masaki.” Nino took a breath. “He’s one of them, isn’t he?”
Sho nodded. Nino hadn’t even had to say the word.
Nino settled his hands on his hips. “They really do look like us then?”
“Yes.”
“He knows who I am. What I have the potential to do,” Nino said. “He must hate me.”
At that, Sho shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“I’ve been brought here to control him, the same as my father and grandfather and the generations before me.”
“Yes, you have,” Sho said, “but you will find that he is not what you might expect.”
“And his brother…there is another one who is trapped here, yes?”
Sho’s expression shifted. His expression grew more serious. “Yes.”
“And what does the brother think of me? Care to venture a guess?”
Sho’s words were grim.
“Pray that your interactions with him are brief. That’s all I can advise you.”
Part Four